


Slip on down to the oasis

by pianoforeplay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-23
Updated: 2011-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-15 00:31:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pianoforeplay/pseuds/pianoforeplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sam goes out to karaoke with some friends at Stanford and gets a little nostalgic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slip on down to the oasis

Sam had spent his entire first semester largely keeping to himself, holed up in either the library or his dorm, studying away the hours. His roommate had managed to drag him out a couple times, taking Sam to a couple parties and small live shows around campus here and there. And Sam hadn't minded, of course, but he'd always felt a little weird about it. Out of place and strangely foreign. It had taken him awhile to get used to the idea that he was staying for longer than just a few weeks. Prior to Stanford, the longest he'd ever been in one place was six months. And that had been Lawrence, some city in the middle of Kansas he doesn't even remember.

But it's been two years now in Palo Alto and Sam's really staying this time. He's more than halfway through school, on the Dean's List and already making plans for law school. He has friends and a job at the campus bookstore and it's perfect. It really is.

Or as close to it as Sam will let himself imagine anyway.

The bar is Maggie's idea, some 18-and-over joint a few miles off campus that apparently runs trivia games every evening but Fridays when they do karaoke instead. She's been wanting to try it for weeks and finally manages to talk everyone else into coming along.

"I'll go so long as you promise not to make me sing," Sam tells her when she brings it up during Tuesday's study session.

"What kind of request is _that_? You know I can't do that."

"Sure you can," he says, grinning. "Here, just repeat after me, 'I, Maggie Sheralton, do not hold--'"

"Jess is coming."

Despite his best attempts to seem unaffected, Sam's smile immediately wavers. He roughly clears his throat in an attempt to hide the misstep, though Maggie is clearly not fooled.

"God, you are easy."

"Shut up."

Maggie only grins. "Be ready by 9:00. Craig's driving."

:::

"Here," Dean said, practically shoving the thin piece of plastic into Sam's hand. "I've been scrounging cash for a month for this thing so don't lose it, alright?"

Confused, Sam brushed his thumb over the glossy surface and shook his head. It wasn't his first fake I.D.; he'd had at least a couple since the minute he turned fourteen and could suddenly reach the brake pedal. "Why didn't you just let Bobby do it?"

"Check out the birthdate, dumbass," Dean said with a hint of a smile. "Now what's say you and me go grab ourselves a couple beers, huh?"

Dean took him to Rocco's that night, a tiny dive bar at the end of town and plied him with drink after drink after drink. The karaoke part wasn't planned as far as Sam was aware, just happened to be taking place that particular night. They were buzzed enough to enjoy each performance, he and Dean both laughing and clapping with the other bar patrons, most of whom were clearly regulars.

After a rousing performance of "Livin' on a Prayer" by two older women in matching leather vests, Dean turned to Sam and said, "You wanna go?"

Sam snorted, still giddy with alcohol, and shook his head. "Hell no."

"Mm-mm," Dean replied, grinning as he took another sip of his own beer. "Wrong answer, Sammy."

"I can't sing!"

"Neither can anyone else here; that's kinda the whole point."

"Nuh-uh. No. No way."

"Wow, seriously? You'll happily take on a nest of vamps, but you can't sing one little song in public? Seriously? Such a pussy."

"Shut up, I am not," Sam said, some of his good mood slipping into annoyance.

"One song, man. C'mon. You gotta pop that cherry some time."

" _Dean_."

" _Sam_ ," Dean shot back, tone mocking. "Look, I'll go up there with you, okay? Hold your dick for you and everything if you want."

Sam knew the rush of heat that rose to his cheeks then was only partially due to the alcohol and he immediately ducked his head to scowl down at the table. Dean often reveled in being an ass, but Sam always hated it more when Dean was an ass without even realizing it.

"You're not gettin' outta this one, Sammy," Dean said. "Time to man up."

:::

The performances are already in full swing by the time they get there, but a couple tables are still left empty. Maggie drags them over to one off to the left of the stage and Sam snags a seat next to Jess, warming under the little smile she gives him before they order their drinks.

Unsurprisingly, Maggie's the first in the group to grace the stage and her rendition of "Like a Virgin" nearly brings the house down.

Beside him, Jess laughs and yells encouragement, singing along here and there, her voice loud and just slightly out of tune. Her laugh is infectious and Sam can't keep the smile off his face. Doesn't even try. Especially when she turns to smile right at him, bright and beautiful and lingering just long enough that Sam thinks maybe, just _maybe_ , he actually has a chance with her after all.

The second Maggie returns to the table, she grabs her drink and flashes an exhilarated grin. "Alright, who's next?"

:::

"I don't even know what to sing!"

Tipping his head back, Dean downed the rest of his glass and then grabbed Sam by the arm and hauled him to his feet. "Leave that to me."

Sam stumbled after Dean to the stage, fear twisting his insides as the shouts of the bar patrons intensified, interspersed with a few sharp whistles that only made his face burn hotter.

Dean, of course, was clearly relishing the attention, spreading his arms wide as he reached the stage, soaking in the adoration.

"Yeah, sugar, show us what you got!" a female voice shouted from the midst of the crowd and Dean pointed out in her general direction, giving her a smile Sam had seen all too often, usually directed at a pretty diner waitress or grocery cashier. Definitely never at Sam.

The guy manning the machine looked less impressed as he nodded over. "Alright, what you boys singin'?"

"Uhm," Sam replied, looking back at Dean who was still busy preening. "I don't, uh. Uhm."

"Friends in Low Places," Dean said, dropping a warm hand on Sam's shoulder and smiling wide. "Garth Brooks."

"Good choice. Got it right here."

"Huh?" said Sam.

"How you holdin' up there, Sammy?" Dean asked as he squeezed Sam's upper arms and patted his back, apparently totally oblivious to Sam's confusion. "Need another drink?"

"Since when do you like country?"

"Dude. _Everyone_ likes Garth Brooks," Dean said as the music started up. "Now come on."

:::

Craig completely butchers "Hungry Like the Wolf" before Jess and Maggie both take the stage for "American Pie". The whole crowd gets into that one, voices warbling in unison for the chorus even when the girls fumble their way through the middle.

Jess bumps into Sam on her way back and swings an arm over his shoulder as she drops into her seat.

"Your turn, Sam," she says, a few blonde strands falling over her eyes. "Show us what you got."

Her phrasing catches on a memory, sends him back a couple years before he manages to catch himself. Huffing a laugh, he shakes his head. "Trust me, you do _not_ wanna hear me sing," he tells her. She has a hand on his thigh, fingers curled just above his knee. And he knows it's completely innocent, but his muscles are tense all the same. She smells incredible.

"Dude, I did it," Craig points out.

"Yeah, and you sucked."

"Yeah, but I did it. I owned my suckage, man. Just get up there and do it."

"C'mon," Jess says, her hand squeezing than inching about a millimeter higher as she tips her head to the side and gives a coy little grin. "I promise to beat up anyone who boos."

:::

Sam's ears were buzzing as they finished, the roar of the bar crowd still going strong as he and Dean stepped off the stage and headed back to their seats.

"Can we get another couple beers over here, please?" Dean called out to the nearest bar maid before dropping down into his chair, smile a mile wide as he met Sam's eyes. "That was awesome!"

"I can't believe you knew every word!" Sam replied, laughing. The adrenaline was still pumping fast, keeping him high. "I feel like I hardly know you. Does Dad know?"

"Dude, everyone on the planet knows that song."

"But you're. You listen to the same four albums on repeat. Non-stop. Did Metallica do a cover or something?"

"Fuck you, I do not listen to the same four albums." There was no hint of anger in his voice though, his cheeks tinged red and eyes sparkling. And Sam was too juiced up on alcohol and adrenaline to bother with the usual denial. Dean was beautiful; end of discussion. "It's twice that at least. And that's just Zeppelin."

The waitress brought their drinks around just as a guy in a Dale Earnhardt t-shirt took the stage and Dean leaned over before the music kicked in, his hand warm on Sam's shoulder.

"You did good, little brother," he said, hand sliding up to pat the side of Sam's neck. "Maybe there's hope for your geek ass yet."

Warmth pooled low in Sam's belly, mixing with a familiar, aching want. It was different this time, though. Even with the alcohol, which sometimes made Sam more morose than loose and carefree. Dean was his brother first and foremost. Whatever more Sam wanted, whatever his sick, twisted, perverted, hopes... Dean would always be his brother.

For the first time in awhile, Sam let himself lean into the touch. And smiled.

:::

Sam weaves his way to the stage, head ducked against the attention as he talks to the girl heading the machine. He can hear his table all cheering loudly, whooping and whistling as he approaches the microphone.

"Hey," he says into it and then clears his throat.

"Yeah, Sam!!" Maggie shouts. "Give it, baby, come on! Shake that ass!"

Sam laughs, some of his nervousness fading away as he squints out into the crowd. Not everyone is looking at him, more than a few engaged in their own conversations, which is fine by him. The less attention he garners, the better.

"So, uh. I haven't sung this song in awhile so bear with me, alright?" he says, talking just to fill in the dead space as he waits for the song to cue up. "Someone, uh. Someone once told me that everyone on the planet knows this one though, so I'm sure you can help me out."

The screen flickers blue then and the music kicks in, the gentle twang of acoustic guitar filtering through the speakers and Sam closes his eyes, thinks about his brother up on stage with him, drunk and happy and totally uninhibited. Carefree in a way Sam has still never managed. Utterly beautiful.

And, for four minutes it's almost like Dean is right there next to him, singing loud and totally off-key, arm wrapped around Sam's neck, jacket reeking of cigarette smoke.

For four minutes, Sam's life is really almost perfect.

 **end.**

**Author's Note:**

> Initially posted [here](http://pianoforeplay.livejournal.com/40091.html) on 11/05/2010.


End file.
